


Pulling Closer, Driving Away

by embroiderama



Series: Truth 'Verse [3]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-15
Updated: 2009-11-15
Packaged: 2017-10-02 23:43:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embroiderama/pseuds/embroiderama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen wakes up and isn't too sure what to do with the truths he's learned about himself</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pulling Closer, Driving Away

  
Jensen woke up, feeling a chill on his back contrasting sharply against the heat under his chest. Jeff’s a/c had kicked in, drying the sweat on his back, but he could still feel the sweat and spunk wet between their bodies. Crap.

He pulled away, sliding back off Jeff’s chest. Jeff sighed softly but didn’t wake up, his empty arms folding closer to his chest. Jensen watched for a moment, remembering how good that golden skin had felt under his hands, then turned away, the need to get clean overwhelming him.

He padded out of the living room and down the hall and finally stumbled into the bathroom. Even taking a piss felt strange: holding his dick, he thought of Jeff’s hands--Jesus, Jeff’s mouth in the same place. He felt himself growing hard again and turned to the sink, grabbing a wash cloth off the shelf over the toilet, wetting it and soaping it up.

He scrubbed his chest, washing off the stale sweat and half-dried come, and then reached down to his cock, scrubbing it until the sensitive skin started to hurt, and his erection faded away into nothing. Clean? Not really, but about as good as he could get right now.

Jensen walked back to the living room, hoping to get some clothes on before Jeff woke up, but he found only an empty sofa where Jeff had been sleeping and his clothes still in a pile on the floor. He pulled on his boxers and jeans, listening to quiet clinks and shuffles coming from the kitchen. He stuffed his watch in his pocket and picked up his black shirt, considering it. He wanted the warmth and the…cover, but he wasn’t really ready for having snug fabric against the sensitive skin of his chest just yet. He shrugged and compromised, pulling the shirt on over his arms and back but leaving it unbuttoned.

Jensen looked down at his shoes then looked at the front door on one side of the room, the hallway to the kitchen on the other side. He let the shoes lie and padded out into the kitchen.

Jeff stood in the open back door, jeans riding low on his hips, bare back illuminated by the warm kitchen light. He whistled out into the night. “Come on, girl!”

With a clatter of toenails on tile, Jeff’s dog came running inside and directly over to Jensen. “Oh! Hey,” Jensen murmured, dropping down into a crouch to greet the dog.

“This is my best girl, Bisou.”

“Hey, Bisou.” Jensen scratched her head, and she sat down in front of him, panting happily. He kept his eyes on Bisou’s brown fur as he said, “Sorry I woke you up.”

“S’okay.” Jensen heard the sound of ceramic on granite and looked up. Jeff was facing the counter, pouring mugs of coffee as he continued talking. “My girl needed to go out and do her thing anyway.”

“That’s cool.” Great. Sparkling repartee here, Jensen berated himself silently. Something was telling him that he ought to just leave, just get the hell out, but still he didn’t want to go. Being here, in this room with Jeff, felt good--felt strange, but also safe. Jensen pushed up out of his crouch and sat down at the small kitchen table. He smoothed his hand over wood the color of honey and watched the muscles in Jeff’s broad back shift as he prepared the coffee, watched Jeff’s bare feet pivot on the tiles.

Jeff walked over to the table, depositing a steaming mug in front of him, and then sat down to sip at his own mug. Bisou, who had run across the kitchen to nuzzle against Jeff’s hip while he worked, clattered back over to stand between them. Jensen inhaled the warm, roasted smell of his coffee and then took a sip and stared into the dark liquid, watching the ripples fade away into stillness.

“So, you doing okay over there?” Jeff’s voice sounded a lot like the coffee tasted--warm and rich and strong.

Jensen wasn’t really sure how he was doing. On the plus side: just had the best blow job of his life, a blow job provided by his very good-looking and kind costar. On the minus side: he had no idea who he was, no idea if he wanted to be the person who reciprocated, offering himself on his knees.

The sense of daring, of discovery, that had spurred him through the last weeks and right up to Jeff’s door, right into Jeff’s arms, had utterly abandoned him sometime between falling asleep in Jeff’s arms and waking up in his own come.

“Jensen?” Jeff’s hand touched his wrist, lightly cupping the joint.

Right, he was supposed to respond. Jensen looked up and smiled at Jeff. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks for the coffee.”

Jensen felt a weight in his lap and looked down to see Bisou’s head resting on his leg, her soulful eyes staring back up at him.

“She likes you.” Jeff observed, sounding pleased. “Plus, she’s hoping you have some treats in your pockets.”

“Sorry girl, no dice.” He patted her head anyway, stroking the fur between her eyes.

“You sure you’re doing okay?” Jeff persisted, squeezing Jensen’s wrist where he still held it. “Because you sure look like a guy who just woke up from sucking his first cock and isn’t too sure what to think about it.”

Jensen looked up to see a friendly, knowing smirk on Jeff’s face. “Look, if you want to pretend this never happened, that’s okay, I can deal with that.” Jeff looked away for a moment before continuing. “But, uh, if you want to stick around, spend some more time together, well, that’s more than okay.”

“My flight back to Vancouver leaves at 3 tomorrow afternoon.” Jensen looked up at the time on the microwave. “This afternoon.”

Jeff pulled his hand away from Jensen’s wrist and smoothed his palm flat on the table instead. “I know you have to leave LA tomorrow. That’s not really what I meant, about sticking around.”

“Yeah, I know, I--“ Jensen closed his eyes and clamped down on all the echoes in his head telling him this was wrong. Be in the moment, he thought, like an acting exercise. He thought about how he felt there, then, with Jeff sitting near him, beautiful and half-dressed, the feeling of Jeff’s hands still on his body, the taste of Jeff still in his mouth. There, in the moment, Jensen felt good.

He opened his eyes and looked at Jeff, felt a slow smile crease his face at the concern in Jeff’s eyes. “I don’t want to pretend this never happened.” He took his hand off Bisou and reached it over to rest on the soft denim over Jeff’s thigh. “This was good. Really, seriously good, and I--I want it to happen again.”

“So do I.” Jeff wrapped his hand around Jensen’s bicep and bent over to press their lips together. Jensen moaned in pleasure and then felt Jeff grin against his lips as Bisou whined in annoyance at having her space encroached upon. The sound of toenails clattered away from them across the tile, and then Jeff pulled away, tugging Jensen by the arm.

“C’mere,” he growled low in his throat, and Jensen was helpless to do anything but follow. Jeff pulled on his arm until Jensen was half-standing in the space between them, and then Jeff guided him closer until he couldn’t move any further forward without sitting on--oh. Jensen felt a flush bloom across his cheeks but he stepped out wide to straddle Jeff’s chair and then sat down, Jeff’s strong thighs beneath his ass.

Jeff moved the hand on his bicep to cup the back of Jensen’s neck and wrapped his other arm around Jensen’s lower back, pulling him in closer, tighter.

Their chests pressed together, bare skin meeting where Jensen’s unbuttoned shirt parted down the center of his chest. The pendant on his chain burned cool against his sternum until it warmed between them. Jensen pressed his mouth in to Jeff’s, their teeth clicking, tongues sliding together as they struggled to get further inside each other, more deeply entwined.

Jensen pulled away, gasping and clinging onto Jeff’s shoulders as his head reeled. “Oh, God.” He dropped his head to Jeff’s shoulder and just breathed in the musky, spicy scent of his skin. “I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go.”

“You can stay here,” Jeff offered. “Sleep until you have to go catch your flight.”

“I can’t. I won’t, we won’t sleep, and I have to be fresh for Monday. Tomorrow. Kim’s directing this week, and you never want to see the look he gives you when you show up exhausted already on Monday.”

“Okay.” Jeff rubbed his hands up and down Jensen’s back for a minute, and Jensen wished that he could sleep there, right there straddling Jeff on a kitchen chair. “Okay,” Jeff repeated, pulling his arms from around Jensen and craning his neck to steal another brief kiss as Jensen awkwardly stood up and stepped back.

Jensen turned around, buttoning his shirt up as he walked back into the living room. He sat down on the couch, the couch where just a few hours ago his brain had nearly exploded as he’d come in Jeff’s mouth, and bent over to pull his shoes and socks back onto his feet.

Jensen stood back up and walked toward the door, feeling strangely reluctant to leave this place of warmth and calm _and fucking hot sex_. Jeff followed, Bisou at his heels.

“Give me a call if you want to get together or just, whatever.” Jeff stuck his hands in his pockets. “Give me a call.”

“I will.” Jensen pulled out his car keys and jangled them in his hand. “And thanks, man. For the truth.”

“My pleasure,” Jeff grinned, his brown eyes sparkling gold.

Jensen had to turn away and walk out the door before he found himself back in Jeff’s arms. The night air felt cool on his skin, and he jogged to his car. Inside, he started it up, turned on the heat, and pulled out onto the road before he had time for second thoughts.

He drove, enjoying the relatively light late-night traffic, humming along with the radio, feeling his body pinging pleasantly in the aftermath of the evening’s activities. Great as the night had been, he could admit that he was looking forward to taking a shower. He felt dirty. He felt--

Jensen yanked on the steering wheel, cutting across a thankfully-empty lane before jerking to a stop at the side of the road. Dirty. Disgusting. Wrong. The words assaulted him, and he shook, just managing to get the car in park before he wrapped his hands around himself and bent forward to press his head o the steering wheel.

So fucked up. So fucked up. He had fucked up. He heard the voices of his family and his old friends from home, telling him how disgusting he was, how wrong, and this time they wouldn’t shut up. Jensen was locked in the car alone with them, and there was no escape.

Eventually, he managed to pull himself together, put the car back in drive and merge onto the freeway again. Eventually, and by then he knew--this couldn’t happen again.


End file.
